


you are my favorite thing

by iPhone



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Quarantine, Romance, Smut, they're in self-isolation babey!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23223874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone
Summary: Beca and Chloe find themselves alone in their apartment after the instruction comes to self-isolate. Set pre-PP3. Just pretend PP3 doesn’t exist.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 54
Kudos: 330
Collections: Lock Down Fest





	you are my favorite thing

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for this fic. It stuck with me...and I had to write it before it drove me crazy. I know it's not that good but hopefully it brings a small smidge of levity to your lives. <3 I promise I'm working on other stuff, just haven't been feeling well lately.

When the announcement came that it would be in everybody’s best interest to self-quarantine and self-isolate, Beca hadn’t really known what to expect. In fact, she feels kind of bad for not taking this more seriously and leaving Chloe to pick up the slack. Chloe, who had been almost zealously preparing for the “worst to come” by her standards.

And now, apparently the CDC’s standards.

With the rampant news updates and social media seemingly tearing itself apart at the seams, Beca kind of wishes she had picked a career that required her to be on her computer _less_ but now as she lugs her two laptops and three pairs of headphones home from the label’s head office in midtown, she supposes that she has no choice.

“Oh good, you’re home,” Chloe says upon seeing her. She reaches out automatically to help Beca with her bags as Beca belabours the fact that they live on the fourth floor of their walk-up. She tries to smile gratefully at Chloe, but Chloe is already pacing across the small kitchen space in front of her.

“No welcome home?” Beca jokes. She shrugs off her blazer and moves towards the rack of clothes so she can hang it up neatly. Chloe quickly places a hand on her chest but before Beca has a chance to squawk indignantly at Chloe’s hand placement (Beca totally doesn’t think it’s _nice_ or whatever...because she doesn’t care), Chloe stares at her seriously.

“Do we have enough groceries?”

“Did you eat all the groceries from two days ago?” Beca asks, confused. She turns on her heel to open the fridge to check. “Nope, we literally have all the food that we still haven’t eaten.”

Chloe slumps, moving to sit at the table instead. “Sorry, it’s just been super hectic today. I know we just went to get stuff, but my parents are stressing me out _so_ much.”

Beca smiles sympathetically. “I get it, my dad was messaging me all day today. I told him it would be fine. It’s just a matter of waiting it out.” Beca injects some optimism into her tone. “ _Plus_ , Amy isn’t around this weekend so…” she trails off hoping Chloe will understand.

Chloe brightens. “Trashy television night?”

Internally Beca groans, but the smile on her face is genuine because it’s worth it to see Chloe smile.

* * *

So the whole having a crush on your captain/co-captain/best friend/bedmate thing?

Kind of overrated. Beca’s over it—or she _wants_ to be over it.

She wants to stop thinking about how nice Chloe’s smile is or how effortlessly Chloe can lift her when she overenthusiastically hugs Beca.

Or how ridiculously happy Chloe makes her.

All those dumb things and dumb feelings that she never really felt to any extreme or significant levels with Jesse. And definitely not that one night stand _after_ her break-up with Jesse.

It’s just that Chloe had somehow always been there, somehow slipping through the cracks and all the crevices of Beca’s carefully constructed walls—places that Beca didn’t even know were available to fall victim to Chloe’s special brand of love and care.

But if there’s one thing that Beca has come to love about Chloe, it is exactly that care—that specific way Chloe somehow makes her feel like she’s the most cherished person in a room. In the world, maybe.

It’s gross and cheesy.

Beca loves it.

It just kind of sucks that all of this pondering—all the pondering the world, maybe—wasn’t enough for Beca to be wary of what it would mean to be stuck twenty-four-seven in an enclosed space with the girl she’s in love with.

* * *

With how busy their lives have been, Beca realizes with a pang in her heart that she really hasn’t had time to just sit down with Chloe and just _be_. It’s Tuesday and after a weekend spent just catching up with Chloe and meal-prepping for the rest of the week, Beca realizes that this whole situation could be a lot worse.

 _I’ve missed you_ , is what she wants to say.

Like most things when it comes to her feelings for Chloe, it just sticks inside her head instead and she settles on saying good morning to Chloe.

“It feels weird,” Chloe admits, sitting down next to Beca on Tuesday morning. She scoots her chair closer to press her cheek against Beca’s shoulder.

Beca scrolls lazily through her social media feeds, a habit she picked up from Chloe. Naturally, her body turns into the warmth offered by Chloe’s close proximity. “What feels weird?”

Chloe sighs. It is a large enough sigh to shift Beca’s shoulder as Chloe moves against her. “Not having work.”

Unlike Beca who was permitted to work from home, Chloe’s supervisor suggested that she just take some time off. It wasn’t like Chloe was really being paid a lot to begin with, as a temporary veterinary assistant, but Beca knows that the blow must be hard on both the financial and emotional level.

“You can be my assistant for the day,” Beca suggests. “I have to finish finalizing a few tracks on this album. You can give me feedback. It’ll just be like the old days. Just, um, don’t tell anybody about it. And no posting on social media.”

Chloe immediately brightens at that, like Beca just offered her the entire world on a silver platter. The kiss that she presses to Beca’s cheek is absolutely worth it.

* * *

Chloe is, as Beca has always known, incredibly attentive. She also has no real concept of personal space.

Beca knows however, that if she had bothered to say anything to Chloe about that, Chloe would have backed off years ago, but Beca kind of likes that it’s their thing. Kind of.

So when Chloe leans right over her shoulder to watch her work, Beca says nothing.

Whatever.

This is way better than being stuck in an office.

* * *

“Hey,” Chloe says, drawing Beca’s eyes up from her screen. “I’m just going to shower, do you mind.”

Beca shakes her head, _no_ , because she doesn’t mind. Chloe lives here too. Chloe can totally walk around half-naked if she wants. She’s confident about all that. Chloe can toss a towel over her shoulder and hum to herself. Chloe can squeeze Beca’s shoulder in affection. Chloe can step into their dingy bathtub, draw back the curtain and proceed to strip off all her clothes in front of Beca—almost quite literally—and just shower a few feet away from where Beca is accidentally deleting an important layer in her audio editing program.

Chloe can do whatever she wants because Beca and Chloe are roommates and that’s what roommates do.

* * *

Chloe doesn’t need to shower _every_ day, Beca’s sure of it.

She’s not really complaining. It’s not like she can even _see_ anything, though the reappearance of her rather vivid sex dreams about Chloe on Thursday night is alarming.

But _honestly_ , Beca’s not really complaining even though she hundred percent moves her seat at the kitchen table on Friday so her back is towards the shower.

She thinks Chloe pouts at her on the way to her shower, but Beca’s too busy renaming arbitrary files on her computer to really pay attention to that.

* * *

It’s crazy that it is in _these_ circumstances that Beca is really truly considering that she should just tell Chloe how she feels. It’s just hard, wanting to kiss Chloe all the time. It’s hard because they’re really and truly alone and Beca has nothing to do but stare at Chloe’s stupidly perfect face and her lips and she has to see her sweet smile.

It’s gross. Beca’s gross.

(It also doesn’t help that sometimes she catches Chloe staring back—with the same degree of affection to boot. The same care, affection, and desire in her eyes that Beca knows must be shooting out of her own like fucking spotlights.

But she supposes that she could be imagining it too.)

“Beca?” Chloe asks. “Are you watching?”

Chloe’s voice cuts through Beca’s thoughts gently. Beca gazes up at Chloe who has not moved her attention from the screen. She takes the moment to genty observe the curve of Chloe’s nose. The fullness of her lips. The way her lips gently part as she expels a breath.

“Yeah,” Beca says before slowly dragging her eyes back to the screen with some reluctance.

She’s _fucked_.

* * *

**Beca  
** _Dude where are you_

**Fat Amy  
**At a friend’s place, don’t wait up xoxoxo

**Beca  
** _What????  
_ _Come home now  
_ _Amy?????_

* * *

“Remember college and how I said I wish I experimented more?”

Beca chokes on her water.

“N...yes? Why?” Beca demands, ignoring the way her heart races. Being in close proximity to Chloe tends to do that to her. Nothing new.

Chloe hums to herself. “Nothing. Just lots of time to think today.”

“Oh,” Beca says. “Okay.” She quickly refocuses on her work.

Chloe sighs and returns to her textbook.

* * *

Beca blames the long, extended time spent inside. She kind of forgets that they had dinner plans. Or that she probably should have sent that email to her boss.

It’s so easy to forget that they’ve been confined to their apartment for days, but Beca can’t complain.

Mostly because Chloe’s tongue is in her mouth doing absolutely sinful things.

And well—now they’re kind of tumbling onto their deeply uncomfortable but satisfactory for the moment bed, Beca grunting as her back hits the mattress heavily.

“Sorry,” Chloe pants out, drawing back. “Are you—”

“M’fine,” Beca mumbles, pulling Chloe back down for a kiss. Chloe responds eagerly, not-at-all minding that she had been cut off. Instead, she makes a happy little sound, curving her body neatly into Beca’s. The warmth of Chloe’s body on top of her own is driving Beca crazy—that and the distinct lack of friction between her own legs. “Wait,” Beca says, after pushing lightly at Chloe’s shoulders. “Wait—can you—”

Chloe’s brow furrows. “What is it?”

“Just…clothes,” Beca mumbles.

“Oh!” Chloe grins then. “So forward.”

Beca’s cheeks heat up spectacularly. She both loves and hates that Chloe can still tease her like this, even though they’ve both completely eviscerated whatever fragile lines they had set up in their already-confusing friendship.

Chloe, ever the master of making Beca feel many things at once, doesn’t stop there, however. She smiles, leans back—sits all the way upright for Beca’s viewing pleasure—and pulls off her shirt in a smooth motion that makes Beca’s mouth go dry.

Then, when Beca thinks that it can’t get _worse_ …

“I like it when you’re forward,” Chloe murmurs, leaning back down to cup Beca’s cheeks before kissing her so thoroughly and deeply that Beca thinks she might soak through her jeans completely.

Speaking of her jeans—

Beca whimpers into Chloe’s mouth when she feels Chloe’s thumbs expertly popping open the button on her jeans before Chloe is pulling away again to slide the offending material down her legs. Beca scrambles to sit upright so she can pull off her shirt quickly.

It is all pent-up urgency and flying clothes as Chloe climbs back over her, all messy hair and flawless skin, and pulls her into another sweeping kiss. It ought to be illegal, the way Chloe’s tongue flicks through her mouth, desperately seeking out Beca’s. Chloe somehow has made making out a high-level art form and Beca is only all too willing to pay full price for admission to that particular show.

Beca has imagined this, she would be remiss if she weren’t going to admit it right off the bat. It is just difficult reconciling her imagination with this reality because the reality is making Beca’s imagination look very, very weak.

Chloe’s arms come around her, pressing against the mattress before Chloe is rolling them all at once. Beca groans, moving to straddle Chloe which proves to be a mistake, somewhat, because suddenly she can feel the ripple of Chloe’s stomach—damn abs—right against her soaked center. She bites her lip, leaning back slightly and watching with rapt attention as Chloe follows, folding Beca into her arms again.

“I want you so much,” Chloe rasps, voice hot and low against Beca’s neck. “Like, right now.”

 _Have me_ , Beca wants to say. _I’m yours_.

A whole slew of clichés float through Beca’s mind, but all she manages is a guttural moan because Chloe chooses that mount to eagerly palm Beca’s stiff nipple while sucking a nasty hickey into the side of her neck.

“Was that a yes?” Chloe murmurs.

“Fuck yes,” Beca grits out, holding Chloe’s head against her as Chloe’s kisses descend lower so she can envelop Beca’s neglected nipple in her mouth. The sensation of Chloe’s lips, her tongue, the graze of her teeth—all of it right against Beca’s sensitive flesh.

* * *

So how _that_ happened is kind of a long story and it might or might not be Beca’s fault.

The short story is that Chloe wanted to watch a movie and Beca had agreed because movie nights with Chloe usually meant cuddling.

But strange times call for unexpected occurrences, though upon reflection, the build-up had been there all along.

(Literally. For years.)

Beca just didn’t really expect the whole making out thing. And the sex thing.

Oh—

And the whole ‘watching Chloe sleep next to her while she runs her fingers through beautiful red hair to calm herself down because her heart is threatening to burst out of her heart’ thing.

 _That_ thing.

* * *

“You’re horrible at picking up signals,” is the first thing Chloe says to her when Beca wakes up on a bright and sunny Saturday morning.

“I am,” Beca agrees, rolling into Chloe’s body with no intention of going outside ever again. “But maybe you’re horrible at dropping hints.”

“Maybe,” Chloe murmurs, breath hot against Beca’s mouth.

* * *

“So this is week two,” Beca says in the most dramatic voice she can muster. She grins at Chloe’s little delighted giggle as she pulls the sheets over both of their heads. It is early Monday and Beca’s phone has been on silent pretty much all weekend. She and Chloe pretty much only left the bed to shower and eat, both of which were activities that could be pleasantly underscored by sex.

“It _is_ week two,” Chloe echoes, pulling Beca in for a slow, muted kiss. It reminds Beca of the kiss Chloe had woken her up with after their first time—the mild disorientation had faded away quickly.

“Whatever shall we do?”

* * *

Beca thinks that morning sex absolutely should be part of her regular routine—no matter the circumstances.

Chloe trails gentle fingers down Beca’s neck, between her breasts. Beca waits with heavy breaths, watching Chloe’s progress as she maps out invisible lines on Beca’s body, like an artist at work. Beca clenches her hands into fists, resisting the urge to pull Chloe into another messy kiss. She kind of likes this slower pace—this care and attention bestowed upon her. Chloe’s eyes are incredibly blue as they track over Beca’s body carefully, like she doesn’t want to miss a thing.

“You’re so…” Chloe trails off, sighing happily as she presses lazy kisses around the curve of Beca’s breast before leaning up to suck gently at her nipple. A familiar sensation now, Beca’s back still arches obediently as her breathing quickens.

She doesn’t need Chloe to finish her sentence. She just needs Chloe to continue whatever she’s doing. Naturally, Chloe settles between her legs after a few more torturous minutes of lavishing attention on Beca’s chest. Beca’s hips rock up impatiently, almost of their own accord. She is wholly aware of how uncomfortably wet she is and she knows she’s going to need _another_ shower, but she doesn’t care about that at the moment. The ache between her legs only intensifies when Chloe’s fingers finally make their way to her aching clit.

“Oh fuck,” Beca mumbles. She slowly moves her hand to tangle her hand in Chloe’s hair, needing to feel Chloe closer on all accounts. She spreads her legs wider to accommodate her lover, heaving a breath when Chloe shifts closer still and leans up to press a kiss against Beca’s neck delicately.

“I think I love seeing you like this the most,” Chloe murmurs.

“Like—how?” Beca squeaks out when Chloe’s fingers press down more firmly against her clit. A soft whine escapes her lips.

“This. Spread open. For me.”

Chloe says that like it is the most natural thing she could say to Beca. She says it like she is simply discussing a reading assignment or that she thinks Beca should add another layer of harmonies.

Not at all like she's describing exactly how much Beca wants her; how wet she is; how much she needs Chloe between her legs before she combusts.

Beca pulls Chloe in for a messy kiss, already aching for Chloe’s tongue in her mouth. Chloe indulges her for a few moments, sweeping her fingers through her wet folds. Up, down. Around.

Beca cries out, muffled against Chloe’s mouth. She rips herself away from their kiss. “Chloe, _please_. Fuck me.”

Chloe grins and leans back in to nip at her lower lip gently. “I thought I was?”

Beca groans in frustration. _Fucking tease_. She tightens her legs around Chloe’s waist, moving her hips so that Chloe’s fingers almost slip inside her. At the sensation, her head falls back and she lets out a broken whimper.

“Oh,” Chloe murmurs. “You meant like _this_.” Chloe gently pushes a finger past her folds and Beca clenches hard around it. Chloe begins a slow rhythm, curling her finger every now and then. “And like _this_.”

It is such a slow, steady pace that Beca has no real reason to complain. Uncomfortably, her neck arches. She reaches down to grip at Chloe’s wrist with a trembling hand, but she does not stop her. “More,” she whimpers. Begs. “Please, baby, _more_.”

Chloe seems to perk up at the pet name (or the begging—Beca thinks she should do more research; she can absolutely do more research with all the time in the world at her disposal) and to her credit, she listens to Beca for once. She picks up the pace, this time adding a second finger to join the first. Beca grunts at the fullness, blinking up at the ceiling for a brief moment before she squeezes her eyes shut only to see stars explode behind her eyelids. She grunts again, louder, slackening her grip on Chloe’s wrist. Automatically, her hand drifts to her momentarily-neglected clit and she rubs at it with as much pressure as she dares.

Chloe growls—full-on _growls_ —and nips at her throat before using her free hand to move Beca’s hand out of the way. “I want to,” is all she says when Beca opens her eyes, ready to demand Chloe explain herself.

 _Oh_.

Well, if Chloe _wants_ to do that, Beca isn’t going to stop her. They’ve got weeks to figure it out.

* * *

**Beca  
** _Amy, nvm, you should probably stay exactly where you are_  
_Just to be safe yknow  
_ _thanks_


End file.
